Endless Epoch
by IUsed2Know
Summary: Paige has autism, but Emily doesn't treat her like a child.


She isn't a sexual being to other people.

Paige knows that. It's strange really, because deciphering a split-second frown? Understanding just exactly when the unabridged list of her favourite word-definitions becomes a social faux-pas over dinner? Figuring out why Happy Hour isn't the same unified period of the day adhered to by all alcohol licensees? Incomprehensible. But, the inability to be perceived sexually? Paige knows about that well. It makes her feel hiraeth, noun number sixteen on her list of favourites; to feel homesick for a place or state that never was.

That's the other problem, besides not being seen as a sexual being, the misconception that she does not feel things. Paige feels everything; every vibration, every slow grind of the bus coming to a halt, every pop of bubblegum in the library, every lazy insult—which never contains any kind of word that has ever made it onto her top two-hundred list—thrown at her with the assumption that she is incapable of being hurt.

Quiet as she is, Paige feels it all: hurt, happiness, surprise, trust, disgust, joy. It's expressing and recognising it that become muddled. That's all. A fault in the invisible bit of her that makes filtering and comprehending sensory data such a doddle for everyone else. Doddle, informal noun number seventy-nine; a very easy task.

Somehow, Emily doesn't see any of that though. In Emily's mind, Paige's the sexiest woman who ever breathed — or so she says, multiple times a week.

The restaurant was jostling; sounds seem to careen against one another into a crescendo of the busy and hectic; kitchen doors swinging, plates clattering, people talking quietly and not quietly enough for Paige's liking, then there was the dull instrumental music rolling around the room through the overhead speakers. They had came to this place twice before for a quick once-over, once to make sure she liked it and a second time just to make sure she wasn't wrong the first time. Emily loved Italian food and Paige remembered that, and so even though it wasn't her favourite, and even though she wasn't entirely comfortable in this place, she dragged her headphones around each ear and stayed put.

The waiter walked toward her with a towel over one hand and a bottle in the other. He stopped just shy of the table, hesitating and unsure of himself. Paige thought he was nervous from the way he hesitated and looked her up and down slowly — Hanna always says that's a good tell that someone is either nervous or attracted to the other person. Emily always says she's beautiful, yesterday she said it twice over text and once before bed. But this waiter has a wedding ring on his left finger and so unless he's a philanderer, noun number two hundred and five; a man who readily and frequently engages in casual sexual relationships without his wife's knowledge, which was the unlikelier of the two, then he was nervous.

Which meant that if he was nervous then maybe the manager they had spoken to the first time they came and strictly told not to make the Autism thing a thing, had indeed made it a thing with the wait staff.

"Would you like some wine?" The man mouths slowly and nods towards the empty dinner glass. Paige blinks and lowers her headphones. "Can you drink alcohol?" He mouths slowly again, and Paige watchs his lips travel half way up and down his face and around the chin in exaggerated motions.

"Why wouldn't she be able to drink alcohol?" Emily appears suddenly at her shoulder, almost out of breath. "Sorry I'm running late work was hectic, Tina screwed up the paperwork so I had to fix some things for her. I was going to call but time got ahead of me." Emily smiles down at Paige for a moment before glancing back up. "Ask her again, but this time don't speak to her like she's deaf or stupid." Emily said her words slowly and exaggerated each one.

Paige's gut feeling is that her girlfriend is mocking the waiter.

"Would you like a glass of wine, ma'am?" The waiter looked apologetic, asking Paige much more curt and quick this time.

"Please." Paige says quickly too, holding out her glass.

Emily sat down and unwrapped her scarf, tugging each glove and setting them on her purse. Her cheeks were pink, no doubt stinging from the instant heat of the restaurant compared to the chill outside. She held out her glass too and it was quickly splashed with red wine, a cabernet that Paige had specifically chosen four days ago. She already knew what they were having for dinner too. Emily emailed over the menus last week so she had plenty of time to decide. Emily would get the Chicken Alfredo, because she always got the Chicken Alfredo. Paige would order the plain spaghetti with butter and salt, because heavy flavours feel like fireworks in her mouth and not in a good way.

"I'm glad we're doing this!" Paige looked up and smiled as best she could.

Emily smiled in return, which meant she was happy. Either she was happy or maybe she was hiding a secret, Hanna tried to teach her that distinction when she was thirteen but Paige never quite got the hang of it. Still, there were no secrets between them, not really, only at Christmas but Emily was quick to explain that those secrets are fine and that Paige didn't have to tell her what she bought for her Christmas presents. Paige would remember that this year.

"I didn't see you at work today. I stopped by your office to bring you flowers but you weren't around so I left them on your desk." Emily mused and took a small sip of red wine. "Did you like them?"

Paige swallowed the red wine and placed the stem back on the table. She thought carefully for a moment, "I found the flowers when I came back from the meeting upstairs, I didn't know they were from you so I threw them away. I hope that's okay?" Paige blinked and tried to focus on her girlfriend's facial expressions.

Smile, laughter, rapid blinking, a grin that pushed up into cheeks, Paige ticks it all off on her mental checklist and finally comes to the conclusion that Emily is not upset. "Fuck the flowers babe." Emily chuckled and reached across the table, squeezing her hand. "I should have left my name or at the very least left you a note in the morning so you could find a spot you liked for them. Totally on me, don't worry." She assures cooly.

"I bought you something but you have to wait until tomorrow to open it, it's an oil paint box and a charcoal set." Paige smiled and took another sip of wine.

"Wait why tomorrow?" Emily raised a brow.

"Our first anniversary, the one you wanted to celebrate."

"Today is our anniversary."

"Last year was a leap year so technically tomorrow is our anniversary."

"Then happy anniversary for tomorrow, love." Emily instantly let it go and raised her drink, lightly tapping it against Paige's glass. "How was your day?"

Paige unfastened the buttons on her blazer jacket and leaned back in the chair. "Good but stressful," she rubbed her neck and grinned. "I like good and stressful the most though, means I'm not sat around all day doing nothing. Part of the system went down so Caleb and I spent half the day fixing it, we found four new words we hadn't heard before. You wanna hear them?"

"When don't I?" Emily encouraged and leaned in.

"Epoch." Paige says immediately, taking a sip of wine. "It means a particular period of time in history, or a person's life. For example, I am in an epoch of twilight with you. It hasn't made the list, but it's a great fuckin' word."

"You're in an epoch of twilight with me?" Emily fluttered her eyelashes and blushed.

Paige wasn't great at flirting and Emily was kind enough to be honest about that. She didn't mind, so she always said. Paige is linear and clean and straight and streamline, and sure, she doesn't get it right most of the time but boy, when she does, she does.

"I am sorry." Paige quickly apologises.

"What for?"

"For embarrassing you." It took a moment for her to figure out what the eyelashes and blushing meant. Emily was clearly embarrassed, that's what Hanna would say if she was here; blushing equals embarrassment. "I'd like to tell you the other three words though—"

"You haven't embarrassed me. You flattered me." Emily interrupts and tells her softly, her fingers dragging along the top of Paige's. "I am in an epoch of twilight with you too."

"You don't care that people think I'm weird sometimes?"

"I care that you're honest when you don't understand something and that you never get impatient with me if I need you to explain something again. I care that you take the time to learn me, that you share the things you're passionate about, that you want to be passionate about the things I like too. I care that you make me more productive and structured, which is so good for me by the way, I didn't realise how much I thrive off of order before I met you. I care that my vocabulary has improved stupendously thanks to you." Emily earns a wide-eyed grin with that one, because stupendously is adjective number forty-six and the thing that makes Paige feel most grounded and solid in the world is that Emily will read the thesaurus cover-to-cover in an effort to memorise the list — all five hundred words, two hundred nouns, two hundred adjectives, a hundred verbs. Emily doesn't think it's weird, she thinks it beautiful in a perfectly Paige kind of way. "So no," Emily adds. "I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks about you or me, sweetheart, because your weirdness is such a turn on."

"What does it turn on?" Paige asks too loudly.

"Indoor voice." Emily hushes and looks around, smiling at the elderly couple who stare at them strangely. She leaned in closer to Paige, "You arouse me, sexually." Emily clarified.

"That's good, you arouse me sexually too." Paige again said it too loudly and leaned in to kiss her quick and soft.

In the beginning, she asked for permission when she wanted to kiss Emily. Hanna always said that was the best thing to do, but Emily decided after the first two months of dating that always asking wasn't a requirement and so sometimes Paige didn't. There wasn't really a method to decide when not to ask to begin with and so she came up with the rule of asking twice consecutively, then not asking for three times consecutively, then alternating between asking and not asking for the next four kisses after that.

"Will you finish telling me the other three words you liked? I want to hear about them and then I want to tell you about this recipe I found online for a Baked Alaska I want to try out this weekend."

"Tell me about your Baked Alaska first." Paige's stomach did the talking.

Emily obliged and Paige's stomach rumbled and twisted and ached for the thought of lemon meringue, vanilla ice-cream and orange liqueur. She explained the process, what made it different from the other recipes, and how she wanted Paige to help and be her taste-tester. Paige nodded emphatically and listened to every word, and though she wasn't immediately aware of it, that was what made nights like this so perfect and lovely. The rest of her day was spent analysing, placing an exhausting effort into trying to interpret and understand the world and people around her between the excruciating moments when sensation became too much.

Being around Emily was a salvation from that, because with Emily, even if she didn't understand the difference between a small smile and a big smile, or the different degrees of an eye-roll, there was always the underlying assurance that Emily would be vocal if she didn't like something, or if it was time to change topics, or even just her feelings and thoughts. She understand how Paige operated; never making it an issue or a handicap.

With Emily over-stimmed episodes became fewer and further in between too, and when they did happen Paige never felt retarded afterwards. Apparently that's a bad word, retard. Emily once left-hooked a perfect stranger on the underground between Pearsons and Nine Oaks for mumbling it under their breath, but that word had a definition that Paige figured alone — it was a word tied to lonely afternoons in the school yard, to the moments in classrooms when no one wanted to be her science buddy, to the running and crashing footsteps that carried her all the way back home to her older sister Hanna when the girls in the grade above chased after her, screaming that word like a group of banshees.

The word retarded meant being different in a way that wasn't good because of a fault in chemistry, an error in chromosomes, a problem that she nor anyone else could fix. Unlike a noun, adjective or verb; the word retard had a different primary categorisation; it was a slur. A word that other people used when they wanted to make sure she knew that she was different and unwanted… most slurs tend to do that. Other slurs included words like Ni-

"Paige." Emily stirred her from her jostling thoughts, "Foods here, you want any condiments?"

"Oh," Paige blinked and looked up at the waiter with two plates in hand.

She put the N-word away in her head, along with the R-word, and all the other words that were absolutely definitely never allowed to be said in public. Mom explained that to her when she was small, she understand perfectly how it felt, apparently people used the N-word to make her feel different too. Paige hated the word all the more because of that.

"No thank you, we'll take the food to go." She told the waiter after her mind was tidied away as he began to set down the plates.

"What?" Emily puzzled at her.

"You like spontaneity and so I planned this since this morning, come on, let's take a walk and eat by the water." Paige re-buttoned her grey blazer and bent down for her purse. "Oh, and by the way," she blinked and stared at the sheepish waiter. "We'll take the rest of that bottle of wine to go as well. T-h-a-n-k-y-o-u." She mouthed exaggeratedly and slowly, her words long and loud. Mockery was the product of a weak-mind but it always made Emily laugh and so on the rare moments when she knew when to do it — she always took up the chance.

They walked towards the front of house in hand. Emily biting her laughter while Paige lead the way. It was cold outside and so Paige took the liberty of wrapping Emily's wool scarf for her, her fingertips grazing over the one dip of collarbone that was inexplicably nicer to touch than all the other parts of her combined.

"Emily," Paige said after a moment, blinking as she did. "Did I do the joke right?" She asked in all seriousness, which earned another splutter of laughter from her girlfriend.

"You did it perfect. It read well. I knew that you were making fun of him because of how he spoke to you earlier." Emily patted her arm.

Paige suddenly grinned and laughed too, and even if it was a bit later than everyone else it was genuine nonetheless. She loved jokes, loved it all the more when she was in on them. Emily was good like that, she never minded explaining a joke, which for Paige always made it all the funnier. Sometimes she laughed because everyone else laughed, Hanna said that was an acceptable thing to do — except when people were laughing at her, and then she was supposed to be angry instead of laughing along too, which made no sense at all, but Hanna said it was a rule and so she memorised it nonetheless.

Emily never laughed at her, only ever with her. She didn't really understand the distinction at first but she came to understand it slowly, when Emily laughed, it was never because she was the joke. Paige loves that the most about her.

"I love you." Paige blurted and smiled, still laughing. "My other three words today can wait until later but they're all different adjectives for how I see you sometimes, abstractly. I don't think I'm very good at abstract but sometimes if I try, I can completely understand the similarities between you and a rose."

"We're both sharp and die without attention?"

"Ah," Paige chuckled again. "That was a joke because you get angry if I don't give you enough attention. I like it." She laughed again and wrapped an arm around her girlfriend, "Come on, let's go and find somewhere to sit down."

"You already picked a place, didn't you?"

"There's a bench by the bridge with fairy-lights in the trees. Hanna is holding it for us, we should hurry, it's cold out and she's stupid so she probably hasn't brought a jacket." Paige told her and squeezed her hand, her eyes never breaking from the pavement ahead as they made quick work of the street towards the bridge.

"Paige," Emily said her name like honey in her mouth as she was dragged by the speedy woman in front, "I really love you, you know that right?"

"Yep, you think I'm sexy too." Paige said over her shoulder.

"I do." Her girlfriend caught up and purred in her ear, earning a grin. "You're the most beautiful and thoughtful person I know."

…

There's this careful way that Emily navigates her, and it turns Paige on all the more. It starts with her clothes, which she normally takes off herself because the feeling of material dragging softly over her skin isn't something she likes, but nonetheless Emily helps her and wraps arms around her stomach from behind when the cotton shirt is tugged free.

Paige likes the arms around her belly, but she loves the tip of Emily's nose when it drags down her spine more. It makes her shiver in a good way.

"Thank you for tonight." Emily sighs with warm breath between her shoulderblades. "You're perfect, really." She crooned and pressed her cheek over the skin.

"Yesterday you said I don't cover my mouth when I burp."

"That was yesterday." Emily reminded and squeezed a little harder.

"That makes no sense but okay, I didn't know the only thing separating me from perfection was a hand over my mouth during reflux—"

"Shut up geek," Emily nibbled on the back of her neck and made her giggle with how pleasantly ticklish it was. "That was a joke by the way."

"I ascertained, thank you for clarifying though."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Emily pulled away and turned her around with a grin and impressed raised brows.

"No." Paige softly smiled and cocked her head.

"Wait, for real or are you still being sarcastic?"

"Are you the autistic one or am I?"

Emily grinned and pushed her belly until she fell backwards over the blankets. Paige exploded into a fit of giggles, her neck attacked with quick and light kisses.

Truth is she didn't really know how sarcasm worked, it was the art of saying what you didn't mean but making sure the other person knew what you meant, and that was too much work for too little a pay-off. It was far easier just being direct. Nonetheless Emily tried to pick up where Hanna left off and teach her. She was kind enough to try not to use sarcasm around Paige, if only for the fact that subtleness like that just isn't something that appears on her radar. Still, sarcasm made Emily laugh, and so sometimes she tried her hand at it. Usually it just involved saying the opposite of what she meant in a dry tone. Apparently she wasn't supposed to use it when Starbucks ask if she's allergic to nuts. Apparently, then, 'No, I'm not allergic to nuts.' doesn't mean, 'Yes, of course I'm allergic to nuts.'

Luckily, Emily was quick to catch it, and so now the rule is she's only allowed to try sarcasm in situations that are not potentially life or death. It makes sense, Paige supposes.

"Paige," Emily appeared over her face, grinning, occasionally presses kisses against her jaw. "You want to have sex with me?"

"Yes." She says it immediately, blinking and smiling.

Emily was her second relationship and presumably her last, because monogamy is a requirement of being in-love and one that Paige is certain she'll be happy to fulfil for the rest of her life. It took a while to adapt, for Emily at least, because it isn't enough just to kiss her neck and drag fingers round the small of her waist and expect Paige to connect the dots. She has to be direct, has to ask questions, has to let Paige find the answers. It never takes her too long though to find the words.

"Can I take the lead?" Emily whispered and slipped her hands around Paige's hips.

"Please," Paige cupped her cheeks and kissed her. "I'd like that."

Paige is beautiful, insanely so. That's what Emily occupies her mind with at least several hours of the day — how impossibly gorgeous and neat and clean and streamlined she is. Her skin is so soft and yet somehow still the perfect amount of toned and muscular, no doubt thanks to the seven miles she insists on walking everyday to work with a reluctant Emily dragging her heels in tow. Again, Emily was ultimately grateful for the routine of it, if only because she never had to feel guilty when she wanted pizza now.

Paige's eyes narrow and focus intently while Emily's mouth gently grazes along the centreline of her chest. That was her favourite place to be kissed, the skin there wasn't too sensitive and she found it easier to relax when Emily started somewhere dull to the touch and built up slowly. They figured that out after a few trial and error runs, and again, Emily didn't mind one bit.

"You are gorgeous." Emily murmured into her belly button and then set teeth around her hips, softly at first, earning a guttural whimper. "You like that baby?" She looked up and grinned at the soft green eyes appraising her work.

"Yes, a few more minutes of that please." Paige gasped and closed her eyes.

"Affirmative." Emily set back to work, dragging her teeth in every which-way and direction over the bones that softly jutted from Paige's hips. "You know we can stop or change things up whenever you're ready, right?"

"Sarcasm. I could be sarcastic right now, couldn't I?" Paige blurted between a clench and whimper while the hairs on her skin were made to stand on end. "Fuck it feels good when you do that."

"You could be sarcastic but I really wouldn't recommend doing it when your girlfriend is between your thighs thinking about how much she wants to eat you out."

"You want to eat me out?" Paige's head shot up from the pillows, and Emily never grew tired of how pleasantly surprised she looked at that concept.

Emily's teeth came undone from the edge of her hipbone, she quickly clambered back up her girlfriend's chest and softly pushed her down, kissing her and running a hand down the side of her thigh along the very spot that was neither too-sensitive nor too-dull, a perfect inbetween. "I'm heavily considering it, what do you think?" She whispered between soft swipes of her tongue.

"I think I would like that. Now." Paige pushed on the flat of Emily's shoulders until she was giggling and crawling back down her body. "Now please?" Paige asked again, eagerly.

"Tell me that you love me." Emily settled between her thighs and pulled each one over her shoulders until she rested in the middle on her belly.

"What does that have to do with anything?!" Paige exasperated and tried to push herself down.

"Cus' I want you to." Emily shrugged and pressed her lips along the inside crease of her thigh.

Paige's eyes rolled back into her head, and all she could do was lie there and close her eyes into the magic of what it felt like to have Emily's attention on her like this. It was overwhelming sometimes, hot and vibrating and racing through her veins like a rush of blood; but it was never unwelcomed. Never. Tentatively, Paige opened her thighs a little wider and ran her hand down to the bottom of her belly where Emily's fingers rested against her. She took them and squeezed, rubbing her thumb along the back of her index finger.

"I love you," Paige whispered and suddenly gasped into the mouth that rewarded her. "I love you so much." She almost choked as Emily set to work.

"Good, get used to it, because I am going to love you for an endless epoch." Emily raised a single brow over her mound and ran her tongue slowly and purposefully through her arousal again.


End file.
